


The Promise of Tomorrow

by Cers



Series: Tales from Eiselcross [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: C2E123 Spoilers, Coda, Essek POV, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Minor hinted Shadowgast, One-Shot, Post 123-Coda, c2e123
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cers/pseuds/Cers
Summary: Essek would be lying if he said he wasn’t cold. Even in the underground hollow beneath these cursed arctic wastes where, protected from the harsher elements and creatures, they had set up their outpost a cold wind blew. Floating in a slow figure of eight it was the closest to pacing he would do. Normally he would weather such feelings, not letting them slip through the tiniest of cracks. But tonight he had no such luxury. His worry and fear were too great.Jester’s voice- broken, quiet, defeated- still echoed in his mind from an hour prior.“Essek… we’re coming to you. It’s bad, Essek. Like,reallybad. Might need medical aid. Think we’re a couple of hours away, not sure. Help-”
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Series: Tales from Eiselcross [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133714
Comments: 19
Kudos: 322





	The Promise of Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Coda fic to tail on to C2 Ep 123 i.e. what I hope might happen (or similar) in 124. Nothing explicitly spoiled but heavily hinted that this could be where they're headed next.

Essek would be lying if he said he wasn’t cold. Even in the underground hollow beneath these cursed arctic wastes where, protected from the harsher elements and creatures, they had set up their outpost a cold wind blew. Floating in a slow figure of eight it was the closest to pacing he would do. Normally he would weather such feelings, not letting them slip through the tiniest of cracks. But tonight he had no such luxury. His worry and fear were too great. 

Jester’s voice- broken, quiet, defeated- still echoed in his mind from an hour prior. 

_ “Essek… we’re coming to you. It’s bad, Essek. Like,  _ really  _ bad. Might need medical aid. Think we’re a couple of hours away, not sure. Help _ - _ ” _

Essek had wasted no time in ordering four scouting parties to leave post-haste and fan out in the general direction the Mighty Nein’s guide had arrived from. The man himself- one Mister Underthorn- had come wheeling out of his gifted lodgings at the commotion enquiring gruffly what was happening.

“I have received word from Miss Lavorre that they are en route immediately. Things appear to be...dire.”

“Well shit. I'm gonna help-”

“I do not doubt your skill or endurance sir,” Essek had said, “But even at your most fully rested I sincerely doubt your remarkable contraption could keep up with our moorbounders.” To demonstrate this, three saddled moorbounders sped past, their riders already hiyah-ing them up and out of their western exit. Essek’s fur-lined mantle fluttered violently in the conjured draught and even Dagen’s chair swayed dangerously.

“Huh...ye..yeah you might be right...damn.” Essek liked him, he had arrived only a few hours previously escorted by the on-duty guards and armed with a deadly-looking axe and a wish to be anywhere but here. Upon hearing the words ‘The Mighty Nein’ Essek had immediately whisked the man to more comfortable accommodations and almost demanded every detail. What he was given was an appraising look, a nod, and a note in familiar, hastily-written scrawl. 

Essek hadn’t let go of that note since. It had almost torn with the number of times he had read and reread it, drinking in every word trying to understand the nonsense and code he was presented with. He had no doubt it was all important, Jester’s tones certainly confirmed that and he did not believe she would play so dire a prank on him, but it did not make sense. He recognised the name 'Lucien' from their one dinner evening, but the rest was borderline nonsensical. Something to do with Aeor, and it was bad, immediately so in fact, and that was all he could garner. Nevertheless, he read by unfeeling arcane light until every word was memorised. The only way to save the note entirely afterwards- and to stop him drifting back to it- was to tuck it between pages of his spellbook, now secured in his wrist pocket dimension. 

Even so, his fingers twitched for it. They were really _here_ and here was the physical proof. Some sheaves of paper an indirect line between them across the icy plains. 

Now he stood, an hour later, near the entrance to their hollow and waiting for the  _ tiniest _ sound that would indicate the parties returning, preferably with his friends in tow- and whole. 

There were goosebumps on his arms despite the multiple layers concealing him- he did not agree with the cold no matter how enticing Aeorian artefacts were - but he would not return to his simple office until he knew they were safe. 

It was late, by their workday, so most of the denizens of this research outpost were already resting and in their tents, huts and temporary builds. He glances to his office- centralised and towards the back away from the two exits of the hollow- and observes a single light glowing. His assistant, Uraya, sits by the window looking out from time to time. 

The hollow itself was easily carved and well secured, and Essek appreciated it under here more than he did above in the wastes, but right now the spacious cave was feeling more and more claustrophobic the more he pseudo-paced back and forth. He was never one to show worry or concern, but right now he did not care if others saw him fret. While he held a good rapport with his personnel, operatives, and the more weathered, experienced expeditionists, he knew that such behaviour could- and would- be seen as a weakness. 

When it came to the Mighty Nein, in a notion that did not alarm him though it very well should have, Essek found himself caring a little less and less about how he ‘should’ act and be. 

So he floated back and forth, ears straining, gloved hands clasped tight beneath his cloak, and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

'Agonising' did not cover his mental state right now. At one point he saw Dagen depart from his hut, unable to sleep, and waited nearby supposedly doing ‘maintenance’ on his vehicle. Essek was no fool - not in this. He knew the man was also worried about the curious group of individuals they had in common. 

But who was Essek to call him out on such a ruse?

He never had a chance to ponder the answer for the telltale snarls and growls of returning mounts heralded the arrival of the first group. Essek was stock still until the party came into view- and only with three persons.  They had come up empty, the Captain had said, and one of their party injured- a pack of wolves had attacked and rather viciously too. 

Essek hid his disappointment well, thanked them for their service and report and sent them on the way to the makeshift ward further into the outpost. It was the only solid structure in the place apart from his single-storied cabin he called an ‘office’. It had been readied and waiting for incoming wounded ever since Essek had heard the last word of Jester’s message. 

He watched Dagen look up, face hopeful, eyes searching- only to slump, make brief eye contact with Essek across the thoroughfare before returning dejectedly to fix at his left rear wheel. Essek watches him a moment longer, feeling the mutual growing despair, and turns to watch the guarded exit once more. 

It is less than a half-hour later that Essek breaks and swiftly returns to his cabin. Uraya is already waiting with parchment and ink, ready to take his message. Dicated swiftly, Uraya signs arcane sigils in the air in a familiar motion. Less than a minute later, he shakes his head, saying that the second party has not found them yet, but reports poor weather conditions and low visibility. Nausea threatens Essek on the spot. The message to the third party Captain is not received on the other end- a fact that gives Essek severe pause for concern. For a Sending spell to not reach its target only outlined dire tidings. Uraya sends out one more message to the other companions of that same team… and Essek grimaces as his assistant sadly shakes his head upon finishing his spells. 

Essek makes a mental note to write up those letters of grievances later. With only one more opportunity to send a message, Uraya looks to Essek in askance. The fourth party ….or... 

“Miss Lavorre, please,” he directs. Uraya, to his credit, nods without argument and starts signing in the air immediately. 

To their collective relief, Uraya gives a nod upon finishing and looks to listen carefully. Essek does not hide his concerned stare, hands trembling slightly with their grip on each other and jaw aching with how tense he is. Uraya’s face transforms from relief to leaning forward as though to hear better, to squinting and confused and finally a bit of frustration when it’s clear the message was cut off. 

“It is hard to say, Essek,” he says apologetically, looking up at the Shadowhand. “She was shouting- as though over high winds. It was garbled and her accent is already so thick…” Essek turns away, teeth now worrying at his bottom lip. He could go out, he could take Dagen to the direction they were travelling. He glances to the timepiece on his desk across the way. With sunlight soon, harsh as it can be, maybe they could find them-?

“This is good news, however, that the Sending went through. She lives, she is fine- hopefully, they all are. You must temper your emotions in this moment, the outpost and Dynasty need you-”

Essek whirled around in a moment, eyes ablaze and retort ready to slice through the air- though he deflates seeing Uraya flinch. He swallows treacherous words, ready to leap off his tongue and they cut like glass down his throat. 

_Damn the Dynasty_ in a time like this. Damn them, damn this, damn -

A commotion, not unlike when the parties left, sounds outside the cabin and Essek is already gone before Uraya can twitch the heavy curtain. 

He announces his presence loudly, pushing past the few individuals waking up for the dawn shift. The ‘street lamps’ they have lining their camp seem brighter, the cave less daunting. Dagen wheels forward too but Essek is already past him and greets the captain of the fourth party he sent- a heavyset drow woman with scars enough to rival the Dusk Captain and behind her-

_ The Mighty Nein.  _

They’re battered, beaten, bloodied, and bruised but Essek finds his throat working up and down in solace at the sight of them. 

Not one to forgo propriety and protocol, Essek thanks the Captain and her cohorts, dismissing them for the day for full rest and a bonus pay with his sincere thanks for rescuing and escorting the Heroes of the Dynasty. The three moorbounders pad off at their masters’ behest towards the stables and Essek turns to  _ finally _ greet his friends-

When the wind is knocked out of him by two strong arms in a crushing grip wrapping around him. A muffled voice comes from his chest and he wrestles his arms from out of her grasp. Without hesitation he is already wrapping them securely around her. Essek holds Jester close and digs his fingers into the back of her coat as she continues to speak into his cloak.

He risks a glance upwards and sees the rest of them looking at the pair. Some wear expressions of fond happiness- Fjord, and Yasha. Caduceus gives him a tired smile and a nod- Essek notes he leans a little heavy on his tall staff. Beau leans on Fjord, looking perhaps the most hellish of all of them, but her expression beneath a swelling, cold-burnt face is one that’s soft- and thankful. He nods grimly to her and receives one back in return. 

Veth comes forward, in a torn pink coat and... antlers? and tugs on Jester gently with cooing sounds of comfort. Essek offers her what he hopes is a supportive smile, and Veth bumps her shoulder into his hip with a fragile smile of her own. He doesn’t openly acknowledge her lip wobble as Jester’s muffled sounds turn into trembling sobs. 

Essek was more than ready to receive Jester’s physical affection- she was also so open about it- but he was _not_ equipped for this. Panicked he looks up and finds Fjord already walking forward, Beau left standing on her own. Carefully the men transfer her between embraces, Jester gives him a very watery “hi Essek,” and Essek’s heart  _ breaks _ at the grief in her voice. A firm hand grasps his in a handshake, and Essek gives Fjord an alarmed, but grateful look. 

“Thank you,” Fjord says, his own voice scratchy and hoarse. And it's strained, but sincere. Perhaps the most sincere Essek has ever heard the man. Whatever has transpired in the time between writing the note and their arrival here… he’d get the details later but it was enough to severely shake those he thought almost unflappable. 

“Of course,” Essek responds, and grips his hand tighter with a final shake. “Your lodgings are-” Essek turns to direct them and finds Uraya already there, ready to guide them. Dagen hovers on the peripheral and doesn’t attempt to hide the concerned looks or sniffling relief of shining tears and nasal … _contents_ currently decorating his beard. Essek had a mind to reward that man himself for his loyalty and companionship for his friends. Uraya also- and he conveys that with a grateful look to the duergar. Uraya nods with an understanding only an elder could have, and gently greets Veth, Jester and Fjord with an “it is nice to finally meet you, Miss Lavorre. I am Uraya, Associate of Essek, and these must be-...” 

There’s a hand on Essek’s shoulder. Essek starts and finds a man taller than him when floating looking down with tired eyes. 

“Thank you for finding us and bringing us to safety,” Caduceus says. “You’re a good star to follow, Essek. Very bright.” To say he is confused by the expression is an understatement, but he awkwardly pats the larger hand and puts it down to a language barrier. “I am glad you are arrived safe. You had me worried.” 

Caduceus gives a hollow chuckle so deep it reverberates through to Essek's shoulder. "Us too, it was close back there. Too close, perhaps. We’ll catch you up to speed soon, I think we could use some rest. This way is it? May I make tea in there? I feel like we all need some tea.” 

Essek laughs quietly. “Of course you can. Please, go rest. There is food, water, and cots waiting. Should any of you need medical attention, our healers are on standby over in that hut-” And Essek is evaluating each and every one of them for permanent injuries for reason to summon a physician immediately. 

"Thank you." Caduceus squeezes a final time and leaves to follow his friends. Beauregard follows gingerly, but not before punching him lightly in the shoulder as she passes. 

“Thanks, man. ‘Preciate it.” The words come out slurred and tired but given her busted lip and bruised face, Essek doesn’t blame her. 

“Not at all, Beauregard. Please, get some rest. You look like you need it after-”

She stops in her tracks and spins around to face him. Were he not floating there would be little difference in their heights but even then she seemed to tower over him. “You sayin’ I look like shit, Thelyss? You really saved us across Eiselcross wastes to insult me to my face?”

“N-no? I-”

“Come on Beau, he didn’t mean it like that.” Yasha rescues him in a moment, corralling the woman out of his personal space. She bats Yasha off playfully and throws a smirk at Essek. 

“Yeah I know, I was just messin’ with ya. S’good to see you, man. Honestly. Thanks.” 

Essek reels at the whiplash but is soothed immediately by a quiet Yasha who whispers “sorry about her, it’s been a rough day. It  _ is _ good to see you, Essek.” 

Touched, and still calming down, he nods and smiles at her. “And you, Yasha. And you all.” 

Essek watches as Yasha returns to Beauregard’s side (who is doing a poor job at hiding her limp, acting with much bravado that she  _ isn’t _ leaning on her own staff for support) and they follow their trailing party towards their lodgings. He shakes his head at their antics but should have anticipated that...Beauregard was a bit of a wild card when it came to him and their last interaction was not the most amicable. But he notes the genuineness in her words behind her tough act. Essek frowns at the trailing snow, ice, and droplets of crimson following the group. If they didn’t seek the help themselves he would forward the healers to them post haste-

The footsteps of the final party member patter behind and Essek slowly turns on the spot to face the person that excited him and dreaded him the most to see. 

Caleb’s face is closed off, hidden by a dull-coloured scarf, the rest by a curtain of wind-swept hair freed from its tie. Closer to perhaps the first few times they met in appearance, this Caleb was more standoffish and less quick to questioning and conversation and charm. Essek hoped that was because of the rough few days, and not Essek himself. 

Though the eyes that pierced through the veil of damp, wind-tossed hair spoke otherwise. 

They were  _ burning _ , and not with the usual fire of an inquisitive academic, no. There was something else here, something distrustful, distant and cold- like the far mountains surrounding the crash site itself. Which were also, notably, immoveable.

Essek did not hide his flinch. He had expected, perhaps, such a cool greeting from Beauregard, or Veth, but found them both promptly warm - scorching, perhaps- by comparison. 

The wounds of several weeks ago still lingered as though fresh, it appeared. Essek had half-expected as much but doubly hoped for otherwise. ‘Space,’ they had agreed upon. To let things settle. The war was over, peace restored and so far kept. He had kept his head down working, moving halfway across the world to do so, and been distant from the Nein so much it pained him. He had been grateful for the posting- and not just because of the arcane and historical significance up here. It kept him from glancing and passing the 'Xhorhaus' on a daily basis- a constant, empty reminder of what he may have lost. And yet here he stood, several weeks later, facing exactly those he tried to escape from. And how elated he was at that too. Until this moment. 

It appears his unintended betrayal of the Nein was still being held fast against him. Essek sighs in resignation, expecting this to be his reception of someone he once considered a possible future partner or- … or _more_ … but then-

“Hallo.” It’s quiet, Essek almost misses it, but he looks up and whatever strong feelings were present before, in their place was a more open- if still a little guarded- expression. He searches blue eyes for any sign as to this turn of expression, finding only an unwavering gaze. Essek nods politely, bowing his head. 

“Hello,” he responds. Caleb stands two feet- perhaps more and just a little less than three- away from where Essek floats. The sounds of the camp clutter the background but Essek cannot hear them. 

As in previous times, they both say more with pained, silent expressions than they ever could with words. He can see Caleb putting his caution aside piece by piece- but not letting go completely. Essek does not fault him this. In response, Essek stands open, vulnerable, before his entire operation of Dynasty people and quietly states that which he never would have confessed months and months ago. Look at me, he pleads, I am trying to do right. I am doing good work with good people. 

Essek does not need the Nein’s permission nor their approval. He does not need their lectures on morality or wrongdoings. He is collectively almost older than the majority combined sans one and has authority and prestige they could only dream of having. 

He knows all this, and he would tell himself repeatedly when he felt his most bitter in these last few weeks.  But then he would think of them laughing, cajoling and teasing. Of gifts and kind welcomes. Of loud, interrupting Sendings and sing-song requests. Of pranks, and invasive, personal questions. He would remember blue eyes, hungry for knowledge, wide with brilliance and excitement at learning. He would remember them all fondly… and that bitterness would evaporate. 

He did not need any of their guidance or teachings, approval or validation… but he craved it still anyway. 

Caleb’s eyes search Essek’s own. He looks hollow, Essek thinks. A shade of his more vibrant self Essek had seen in Rosohna and Nicodranas. The bleak, coat colour and even darker backdrop of the outpost cave didn’t help either, desaturating him of his usual fiery intelligence, life, and energy. He looked  _ tired _ . They all did, they were clearly exhausted, but Caleb’s shoulders held an old weariness Essek had not seen before. 

“You should rest with the others. You are safe now. I _promise_.” Essek states it with gentle, meaningful conviction, verbally attempting to encourage Caleb towards comfort and rest. 

Caleb says nothing, and Essek thinks once he would have physically guided him with a gentle touch on the shoulder. Now, with all that hung between them, he dare not. 

Which is why Essek was surprised that when Caleb starts moving past him, a firm hand comes to rest on Essek’s forearm. He freezes, not expecting the motion and has to take three heartbeats to tamper down his instinct to lash out.

The hand is heavy, instilling a sense of purposeful reaching out. It lingers, and this time there is no manipulative air about the gesture. Essek looks to the hand’s owner and finds a tightly wound expression. 

“Danke Schöen. Truly. This does not mean nothing…Essek,” he says quietly. Essek daren’t move. His name - it is said almost whispered reverently, like a prayer or- or an endearment. The hand - he thinks he feels a thumb sweep in a small motion but- “And for what it is worth, I am sorry it took us this long. Friend.”

The sinking feeling that had been churning in Essek’s gut for the past few hours spins and dissipates with a single word. Right now they stood apart, touching only with one point of contact. It was very indicative of their situation- where once Caleb had held him close in joyous elation - now he literally held him at arm’s length… but not without a bridge to meet across. 

Essek swallows thickly and looks down to the arm. He hesitates, but gathering his conviction he brings forth his free hand and rests it atop Caleb’s. 

“I am just happy you are here where I can keep you _safe._ Where I can keep you _all_ safe.”

This time he feels without a doubt the sweeping of a thumb across his forearm- certainly not the action of an academic partner, student or ward. Or even perhaps that of a friend. No, to Essek that was far more intimate a gesture than being crushed in a hug by a woman he was fond of. And he would be willing to posit that Caleb knew that. Essek, rather emboldened by this reception, repeats the motion exactly once across Caleb’s hand, and his mouth tugs at the small intake of breath he hears across from him. Perhaps there is still a sliver of hope for... _something_ , but it will not be tonight that he finds out. This is enough. Having him- them- here, is enough. 

“Go. You are tired. Rest and we shall speak when you all are ready,” he gently orders. 

He almost thinks Caleb will be indignant and not adhere to it just because Essek requested, but there’s a tired sigh and the hand pulls away, dragging idly, deliberately, across his sleeve before leaving completely. Essek immediately notes that he can still feel the heat of the hand linger even through several articles of clothing, and imagines such a silhouette branded into his skin where there are no more goosebumps dotting his flesh. 

“Ja, you are right. Of course… you are right.” Essek is gifted a wan smile which he tentatively returns. There’s a pause between them in this moment, one that’s wider than the world and quicker than a breath. They both wish to say much, both wish to discuss much- this is very evident. Despite agreeing with him, Caleb has made no move to walk, instead his eyes are roaming Essek’s face for something in much the same way Essek is doing to him. 

But then a small bead of blood trails down from beneath Caleb’s hairline and Essek does the right thing. 

“Caleb.”

“Ja,  _ ja…" _ he grumbles, and the gods smite him for it but Essek can't help but find it a little endearing. "I was vexed with you for so long, but I think it was more at myself now that I _see_ you here... and I'm- I t’s just that-”

“I know. And we will. Some other time. But not now. Your friends need-”

“ _ ‘ _ Our’ friends, Essek.”

“I- of course. _Our_ friends need you, and _you_ need rest. There will be time. _Later_.”

“I hope so.”

“I will make it so. It is, after all, my speciality, no?”

Caleb chuckles, and it is a blessed sound if he ever heard one. His eyes crinkle with genuine glee and meet Essek’s own with fondness. There’s a budding warmth in Essek’s chest that he could definitely get used to at this, and he clears his throat hiding his cracking demeanour behind a hand. 

“Indeed. Well… until tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.”

Caleb leaves with a final glance of… something Essek can’t quite decipher and leaves the Shadowhand rooted, floating on the spot listening to the fading footsteps. He counts them all excruciatingly in time with his own pulse until they stop and collects himself. They were here, they were safe. Not quite whole and unharmed, but  _ alive _ and that was all he could ask for. Holding his chin up high, he gives a final glance up the dark tunnel that eventually leads out to the treacherous tundra above and turns, professional facade back in place. 

He sees why the footsteps stopped a little earlier than he expected. Caleb stands speaking with Dagen- who Essek had noted greeted all the others also - and Caleb quietly responds to something, nodding and finally reaching out to shake his guide’s hand. Dagen takes it firmly with two- the other engulfing Caleb’s forearm and Essek laughs to himself as Caleb is nearly hurled forward into a bear hug that looks like it might rival Jester’s in strength. As awkwardly as Essek might have done himself, Caleb pats Mr. Underthorn’s back three times before allowing himself to pull away. Essek thinks he hears words of thanks as Caleb still holds the handshake, before bidding him a goodnight. Keeping his distance, Essek lets Caleb walk ahead, and for Dagen to have some privacy to compose himself before finally turning in for some deserved rest. He was definitely going to grant that man some boon as a grateful gift for saving the Heroes of the Dynasty and being a faithful friend. 

But not before he sends the healers to the Nein’s quarters-

A movement catches Essek’s eye and he sees Uraya standing at the doorway to their office. Rather characteristically of the man, Essek had found, Uraya gives him a knowing glance, rather obviously looking towards Caleb now entering his place of respite, and then back to Essek. Bristling with being perceived, Essek raises a cool eyebrow and a challenging tilt of the head. Uraya smiles widely, shakes his head and enters the cabin. 

Essek was going to be interrogated over tea and biscuits for certain later on, he could feel it. But if his slight embarrassment and display of emotions was the price to pay for the Mighty Nein’s safe recovery… then so be it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just! want them! to see! Essek! again! Listen! I have! Few needs! And wants! But this! is! one! of! them! 
> 
> AndalsoUrayaAssociateofEssekpleaseandthank-


End file.
